


those few summer days

by wearealltalesintheend



Series: Batfam Week 2018 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Batfam Week 2018, Batfamily Feels, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, How did it end up like this?, Humor, Summer Vacation, a week away from the drama, batfam, it started out with a trip, it was only a trip, it was only a trip., jason just wants peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-10 15:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: "An entire week away from Bat-related stuff, it's all Jason wants.Just one week. That’s not asking too much.It’s pretty reasonable, if you ask him.And yet.And yet."or, alternatively, one does not simply walk into Spain, peer pressure is a real danger, and catching a plane to Yemen might have been preferable to this.day 1 of Batfam Week:Vacation.





	those few summer days

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Oh my gosh, it's my first year participating on batfam week! Hurray!
> 
> This week is so close to Jason's Bday week, I'm probably going to die, but here's to hoping and completely disregarding canon.

An entire week away from Bat-related stuff is all Jason wants.

 

Just one week. That’s not asking too much.

 

It’s pretty reasonable, if you ask him.

 

And yet.

 

_ And yet. _

 

*

 

This should’ve been the first red flag on his carefully crafted plan of going away this week.

 

Instead he called it a yellow-orange-ish flag and adapted accordingly.

 

It goes like this:

 

Jason is packing. 

 

He’s on his favorite safehouse, he’s left Artemis and Bizarro in their HQ with the promise of looking over Gotham while he’s away, he’s got a plane ticket on his table.

 

More importantly, Jason’s been dropping hints about a trip to South America for months now.

 

This has been a long-term kind of plan, so what, sue him.

 

Anyway. He’s been dropping rather obvious hints to everyone. Bruce even lectured him already on being reckless. Barbara emailed him a list of cartels he should avoid messing with.

 

This is his most successful plan to date, he’s sure.

 

For credibility points Jason bought a plane ticket to Colombia using one of his aliases known just enough to show up on the Cave’s network.

 

As far as any Bat is concerned, Jason Peter Todd is spending the next week or so chasing a trafficking ring in South America.

 

And as far as Jason himself is concerned, he’s gonna spend the best week of his life in a beach in Spain. Just him, the waves, and a peaceful, stress-free environment.

 

His Red Hood bag is already on its way to Spain, where he’ll pick it up after landing. All he needs is to finish packing his toothbrush and he’s ready to check in at the airport in an hour– 

 

“You should pack a jacket too,” a voice pipes up behind him, “I hear Spain gets a little cold at night.”

 

Jason absolutely does not jump. He does grit his teeth, resisting the urge of banging his head on the wall, or, in a more satisfying prospect, shooting the kid off his doorway, “or maybe I’ll pack your decapitated head if you keep sticking your nose in my business, Replacement.”

 

“I mean,” Tim says mildly, “you do have a history with decapitation.”

 

“And yet, you’re still here,” Jason sighs, turning around and crossing his arms, “what do you want?”

 

Tim is leaning against the doorway, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, and Jason adds  _ upgrading security  _ to the ever-growing list of things he needs to do after he comes back. “I know the Colombia thing is a front,” he begins, “and I know you’re going to Spain instead.”

 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Jason, come on,” Tim rolls his eyes, very casually walking inside and pushing Jason’s things aside to sit cross-legged on the bed. On  _ Jason’s  _ bed. “We both know I’m smarter than that.”

 

There are times Jason wishes he had never gone back for that fourth tire. This is not one of those times, but it’s pretty close. “You’re right. I’m not going to Colombia.”

 

“I already knew that,” the kid nods condescendingly, “but thanks for admitting out loud.”

 

“I am going to Ireland instead.” Tim makes a disbelieving sound, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head on his hands. Jason shrugs, “I’m serious. Go ahead, check out my flight.”

 

“ _ Jason,”  _ it comes out as a pathetic muffled whine.

 

“ _ Tim _ ,” he calmly answers.

 

The kid lifts his head, and goddammit. He’s going full on puppy eyes on Jason. “Jay. I’m not going to rat you out to B–”

 

“Well, that’s a relief.” 

 

“ –  _ but _ , I wanna come with.”

 

Jason stops dead where he had been about to zip his bag closed. “ _ Excuse me?” _

 

He must have heard wrong. This can’t possibly be happening right now.

 

“I want to tag along to your vacation in Spain,” Tim repeats, giving up entirely on the puppy dog eyes and apparently deciding that blackmail is a more effective way of twisting Jason’s arm, “or I’ll tell everyone where you’re going. I’ll tell  _ Dick. _ ” 

 

“You’re  _ evil _ ,” Jason swears, zipping his bag viciously and almost ripping the thing out, “you’re absolutely evil and one day I’ll prove it.”

 

“Good luck with that,” his super villain of a brother says, smiling pleased, “by the way, where should I put my bags? We should leave for the airport in fifteen minutes at most.”

 

Jason glares.

 

“Lines are terribly long in the summer, you know?”

 

*

 

The second red flag disguised as a mildly alarming but incredibly annoying incident happens at the airport, just as they are about to board:

 

“We’re packing our costumes, right?” Tim asks, “just in case?”

 

“Yeah,” Jason doesn’t look up from his phone, “we’re not fucking stupid.”

 

“Jeez, just checking,” the game the kid had been playing for over an hour now pings obnoxiously again. It’s been doing that since they sat down on the uncomfortable chairs, and it’s driving Jason slowly insane. If his next nightmare includes arcade sound effects, he’s going to snap that thing in half. Another ping. “Hey, I changed our reservations to a hotel closer to the beach.” Another ping. “Also, I rented a car for when we land in Oviedo, so take it easy on the champagne during the flight.” Another ping. “You really suck at planning vacations.”

 

Finally, Jason snaps. “Why do you even want to come, then?” He glares, “go plan your own damn vacation and leave me the fuck alone.”

 

“Because I’m tired, Bruce is an asshole, and I thought you would be the most likely person to agree,” Tim shrugs, “besides, a week away from all the drama sounds like heaven.”

 

Jason pauses. The kid does look a little more tired than his usual  _ I haven’t slept in four days but I’ll stay awake out of sheer spite and caffeine doses  _ look. And Bruce  _ is  _ an asshole. 

 

Spain is a big place, Jason supposes, he can avoid Tim if he needs to.

 

“Fine,” Jason sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly, “but you’re paying the difference.”

 

Tim grins.

 

The airport is crowded with people going on vacations. Harried moms herding noisy children. Businessmen carrying briefcases. Couples on their honeymoons. Jason watches them mill around, wonders idly what their destinations are. Or how many of them are criminals.

 

Tim shakes his shoulder, “they called our flight. Let’s go.”

 

Swinging his backpack over his shoulder, Jason gets to his feet. Time to leave this shithole.

 

“Wait!”

 

“What the–” Tim begins to turn around, looking for the new voice, but Jason catches his elbow in an iron grip, dragging him forwards.

 

“Don’t look back. Keep walking,” he pushes them through the crowd, ignoring the insane person shouting behind them, “we just have to make it to the plane. He can’t board without a ticket.”

 

“How did he even find us?” Tim curses, scowling, “maybe he thinks we’re really going to Colombia?”

 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Jason snorts, more out of pettiness than real humor, “but if he’s here, he knows about Spain, or, hopefully, only about Ireland.”

 

“We should make another stop after Ireland, just to be safe.” The shouts get louder, they begin walking faster, “I’m thinking Russia?”

 

“Might be a good idea, Black Mask did Dublin-Paris-Moscow last year to smuggle some shit,” Jason pushes an arguing couple out of the way, “they might think we’re in the middle of a case.”

 

The boarding line is probably only five passengers long, but for Jason, it seems to take an eternity. He checks his watch, looks behind his shoulders nervously. Almost wishes they could flash the Wayne name and just get on the damn plane.

 

Only after they both have fastened their seatbelts, only then, Jason allows himself to relax. They did it. He turns to look at Tim beside him, grinning, “we did it.”

 

He grins back, looking just as relieved, “one week of peace. We really did it.”

 

As it turns out, it was too soon to call victory.

 

Because then Dick is plopping down in the empty seat across the aisle. He frowns, “why didn’t you guys stop?”

 

“What are you doing here?” Tim demands.

 

“And how did you find out?” Jason adds, because it’s important to know these things. Next time, he’ll hide better. “Actually, what  _ do  _ you know?”

 

“What do you mean?” Dick frowns harder, “aren’t you guys vacationing in Ireland?”

 

“ _ I told you he only knew about Ireland!”  _ Tim elbows him sharply on the ribs, “surprisingly, you covered your tracks fairly well.”

 

“Thanks, Replacement,” he replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “why don’t you just go and give him the whole itinerary.”

 

“Wait,” Dick narrows his eyes, “you guys aren’t really going to Ireland, are you?”

 

“I plead the fifth,” Jason simply says.

 

“ _ Tim.”  _

 

_ “Tim, come on,” _

 

“Don’t you dare, Replacement–”

 

“ _ Timmy, I’m already here, what difference is it gonna make?” _

 

“Timothy, I swear to god if you–”

 

_ “Tim, I’m just saying–” _

 

“We’re going to change planes in Ireland and then Russia maybe and then go to Spain,” Tim, the little weasel, blurts out all at once, immediately sinking into his seat, “sorry?”

 

“Really, Replacement?” Jason glares, pinching the bridge of his nose. Outside, the world begins to blur as the plane takes off, effectively trapping him between his two moronic brothers. 

 

Spain grows less and less tempting. 

 

“I’m sorry!” The kid buries his head in his hands, “I’m stressed!”

 

“Oh, shoot,” Dick whines, “I packed totally wrong. I have zero beach clothes.”

 

“I don’t know if you remember,” Jason says nastily, “but your father is kind of loaded.”

 

“Well, there’s that at least.” He shifts on his seat, reclining all the way back, “also, are we sure about Russia? I think I like Italy better, my russian is kinda rusty.”

 

Plugging in his headphones, Jason gleefully turns his music up until Dick’s voice is entirely tuned out. He watches his brother talking soundlessly. It looks almost like a something out of a silent movie, a testament of how dramatic the idiot can be. Beside Jason, Tim is already fast asleep, curled up on his seat and head lolling to the side.

 

It hits him then. The little shit got his window seat.

 

*

 

Jason read once somewhere that  _ everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time. _

 

Turns out, that’s kinda true, in a very  _ third time’s the charm _ opposite kind of way.

 

*

 

When they land in Ireland, Jason is in a bad mood.

 

His back hurts, he didn’t sleep during the flight, there was no alcohol, and Dick and Tim are still prettling on and on and on and–

 

“Oh no.” Tim stops dead in his tracks, “oh hell no.”

 

“What now?” Jason asks, resigned. 

 

“Hm. Hey, B?” Dick waves sheepishly, “what a random coincidence.”

 

And sure enough, Bruce is standing in front of them in his full Bruce Wayne persona. Suit, briefcase and scowl. The man looks decidedly not happy to see them. “What is going on?”

 

“Oh come on,” Jason rubs his eyes, tired of all this shit he had been trying to take a break from, “you really came all the way from Gotham just to yell at us?”

 

“Is there anyone that doesn’t know about our vacation yet?” Tim throws his hands up with all the indignation only a teenager can muster.

 

“No, I came all the way from Gotham to check why is it that nearly all of my sons suddenly felt an overwhelming need to go to Spain,” Bruce says calmly, “and I’m still waiting on that explanation.”

 

“You can’t make us go back,” Tim says hotly, “you can’t just go bossing us around whenever you want.”

 

Jason has a feeling this isn’t a new argument and there is probably a story there. Several, maybe. But, as he is one hundred percent apathetic regarding the entire situation, Jason chooses to ignore both the issue and the ranting teenager. “God, you’re such a freak. Did it never occur to you to, I don’t know, call any of us? Instead of coming all the way to Ireland in your little private jet?”

 

Bruce raises one eyebrow, “would any of you have answered?”

 

Silence. “Well, you got us there.” Dick shrugs, “but really, privacy, B.  _ Privacy.” _

 

“This is not a matter of privacy, but rather of  _ would it kill you to leave a note? _ ” He crosses his arms, giving them The Glare, “Alfred was very worried when all three of you missed brunch without warning.”

 

“Hey now,” Jason stops him, “I did say I would be away this week.”

 

“Yes, Jason,” Bruce says, “in  _ Colombia.” _

 

“Eh, close enough.”

 

“And I was just trying to stop them  _ before  _ they boarded,” Dick defends himself, “it’s not my fault we’re now in Ireland.”

 

“What? But– you said you packed wrong!” 

 

“Yeah, about that,” he chuckles nervously, “I meant I didn’t pack at all.”

 

“What kind of person boards a plane without any luggage?” Jason can’t believe this family, honestly.

 

“I couldn’t just let the two of you go off alone!” Dick scowls, “it would be chaos! God knows no country is prepared for that.”

 

“Hey,” Tim turned his angsty fury towards him, “what happened to  _ privacy _ ?”

 

People are beginning to stare, Jason is sure there’s at least a few cameras out. “Boys,” Bruce intervenes, “we are in a public space–”

 

“ _ I knew it!”  _ A new voice joins the fray. Because of course it does.

 

It’s Damian, marching quickly in their direction, murder in his eyes, “I knew you were all planning something without me!”

 

“Dami?” Dick blinks confused, “how did you get here?”

 

“Yes, Damian,” Bruce pins him with his steady gaze, “ _ how _ did you get here?”

 

The kid falters, fidgeting almost apologetically for a second before wrapping himself in all his righteous fury and sticking up his chin, “I hid in the back of Father’s jet.”

 

“And you didn’t notice?” Jason points at Bruce, snorting, “you’re getting old, old man.”

 

“Stop diverting!” Damian stomps his foot, crossing his arms, “I demand to know what are we doing in Ireland.”

 

“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” is all Bruce says to Damian before focusing back on them, “now. Someone, anyone of you,  _ explain.” _

 

The three of them look at each other, clearly trying to shrug off the responsibility of telling  _ Batman _ about their plans. Jason thinks it should be Dick, because Dick is the golden boy, but Dick thinks it should be Tim, because Tim is the one that sort of died most recently, but Tim thinks it should be Jason, because Jason is the one that makes Bruce feel the most guilt.

 

It’s kind of amazing what they can communicate through pointed looks and subtle gestures when they put their mind to it, Jason has to admit.

 

He glances at Bruce. The man seems to be growing impatient. Jason figures it’s better to rip off the band aid. Besides, if it all goes south, he’ll just book the first flight to Yemen. That sounds like a good, solid, back up plan. So he takes a deep breath, “we’re all planning a vacation in Spain. And by all I mean me, and by planning I mean these two just decided to tag along despite my very loud protests. If anything, at this point, by vacation I mean the product of peer pressure. In conclusion, I’m the real victim here, see you all next mandatory holiday, goodbye.”

 

Tim catches Jason by the arm, stopping him before he can make his escape, “no way, you don’t get to run away. We all suffer together.”

 

Jason gestures his trapped arm, “see what I mean?  _ Peer pressure. _ ”

 

Bruce shakes his head, “I expected this of Jason or Dick–”

 

“Hey!”

 

“I mean, you do have precedent, Dickhead.”

 

“The situation was not the same  _ at all _ ,” Dick says, gesturing wildly for emphasis and almost hitting a passing woman in the face, “I feel like context is very important here.”

 

“ –but I expected more of you, Tim.” Bruce speaks over their bickering, staring Tim down with the full force of his disappointed look.

 

The kid is unfazed, raising one eyebrow back before replying crossly, “your tyrannical rules push me to new lengths.”

 

The man sighs, “this is about last Wednesday.”

 

“You know what, Dick’s right. Gimme context,” Jason asks, wondering if he could convince them to wait until he went to the food court and bought popcorn, “what did he do this time?”

 

“There is no need–”

 

“No, no, no. Go on, Bruce. Tell them why I’m rebelling against your dictatorship.”

 

“To be fair,” Dick says, shrugging, “I assumed it was your late teenage rebellion phase. Although, there was less My Chemical Romance than I expected.”

 

“Tim,” Bruce uncrosses his arms, probably in an effort to look less threatening, “I was merely concerned about your health.”

 

“ _ You locked me out of the Cave!” _

 

“Yes, I did,” he continues, raising a hand before Tim could begin another rant, “after you spent the last three days without sleep and still refused to go upstairs even for a nap.”

 

Jason whistles, “damn, Replacement. And I thought the Brat Wonder there was the Mini-Bruce.” 

 

“I was so close to solving the case,” Tim glances at Jason, seeming unsure if he should take it as an insult or not, “I couldn’t just stop for some silly reasons!”

 

“Timmy, sleeping or eating isn’t silly,” Dick says, alarmed, “they keep you alive, you know that right? It’s very important to me that you know that.”

 

Somewhere, a baby starts crying. Another joins in a chorus from the opposite side. Jason thinks this might be a good time for him to slip away unnoticed. Might even have time to buy that ticket to Yemen if he’s lucky. Bruce looks distracted enough with the others, anyway. Maybe Jason could go to Colombia after all, fuck around with the cartels for a bit. Could be entertaining, definitely a good way to blow off steam, very cathartic. And he can’t remember if he’s ever been to South America either. Talia never sent him to study there, no, he doesn’t think.

 

Just as he is silently reaching for his backpack, Damian asks, eyes suspiciously bright even in the airport’s terrible artificial light,“You were  _ all _ going on a vacation?  _ Without me? _ ”

 

It’s in that moment, that Jason knows.  _ They fucked up _ . Bruce looks at them all pointedly, clearly saying  _ fix it. _ Tim glances panickedly between Jason and Dick, but Jason has no idea what to do with a regular crying child, much less with a tiny little demon like Damian.

 

Dick comes to the rescue, as usual, throwing them all under the bus in the process, also as usual, “of course not, Dami,” he says gently, “it’s just all a big misunderstanding.” The still kid regards them dubiously, as if contemplating the merits of letting them get away with a blatant lie, “but I have an idea. Since we are all here already–”

 

To be fair, it is Bruce that cracks and gives the first sign of wanting to protest, and Dick shuts it down viciously with his very own version of a Batglare, talking over any noise, “ –we should all go on vacation in Spain! I’m sure the hotel won’t mind clearing a wing for us, especially if it’s Bruce making the reservations.”

 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, they all seem to understand there is no going back. The time for buying that ticket to Yemen is over, Jason lost his window of opportunity. They are all doomed. Stuck in some Spanish Villa for a week. Bruce sighs, utterly defeated by four people under the age of twenty-five, and begins calling the hotel. Dick steers Damian away, towards the food court, with promises of disgustingly delicious fast food. Tim shakes his head and unlocks his phone, typing with incredible speed.

 

“What are you doing?” Jason feels the dread in the airport air tonight and it’s not from the plane fuels.

 

“Creating a group chat,” he says, monotone, “easier to get tell all the others. Do you think we should call Kate?”

 

“Yes? She would find all this hilarious,” Jason says, pulling up his own phone. There’s already fifteen new messages since the group chat was created. “Oooh, nice. Alfred’s bringing cookies!”

 

It’s a peace offering, at the very least.

 

*

 

So yeah. One week without Bats, that’s all Jason wanted.

 

One week without all the drama, without all the increasingly convoluted schemes, without the ridiculous villains.

 

Now that he thinks back on it, yes, it was definitely asking way too much.

 

But the feud between Tim and Bruce is entertaining to watch, and Dick is too busy trying to appease Damian’s wounded feelings to be much of a nuisance. He even brought Jason a chili dog as an apology for crashing his vacation.

 

Like he said before, he’s not above accepting peace offerings.

 

This will be a good story to tell when he gets back, Jason supposes. Artemis will undoubtedly get a kick out of this. And Bizarro will be more than happy with the perfect gift Jason is so going to find, even if  he has to drag everyone shopping with him.

 

So yeah, maybe it’s not the Bat-free vacation he had been hoping for, but even the best laid plans sometimes go to waste, and Jason figures just for these few days that can be okay.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey, you made it to the end! If you liked it, leaving a comment or a kudo is like, super nice and totally makes my day.
> 
> or you can reach me on [my tumblr](https://rad-hoodd.tumblr.com/), where I'm always down for screaming about DC.
> 
> and hey? thanks.


End file.
